Hopes He Dies and Soon
by paintedallup
Summary: Sylar/Claire, Purgatory.


"I'll see you in hell, _Clairebear_, all the way at the very bottom."

It's clear that neither of use will get to the fiery pit or the pearly gates in our lifetimes (which are coming and going without change) but a girl can only _hope_.

(but if I had to choose one of us to perish it would be the smiling _son of a bitch_ that I can't kill but will never stop trying)

"I don't give a damn, as long as you go first, _Mr. President_."

Him going first (finding his way back home, where he belongs) was something I had been working on for years upon years and I'm not about to give up anytime soon.

(maybe in two million years or more when the world is no more)

Every other day is spent plotting his demise, stakes (of all _shapes_ and _sizes_), guns, bombs and many more deadly things, then all the rest are used to pull off the vast amounts of assassin attempts on our _commander in chief _but as always they end in flames and one _very_ alive president.

(who then rules the world with his charming words, shaking of his fists, and tales of his many almost dates with death)

But while all of this is going on, me sending bullets and flame balls his way (and toward the now bullet proof white house), not once over the millions of times I killed him did he ever point the gun back on me, no, all he does is smiles.

"Maybe next time you'll get lucky, _Claire_, maybe next time."

(next time _atomic_ is in mind)

To anyone this would get old and fast (something I can never do), killing the man that visits you in your nightmares each night, but to me it's more of a job to rid the world of scum.

And killing that son of a bitch, over and over again, makes me really happy (as it should with every _hero_ alive).

But even Peter grew tired of this all, this war full of creepy flirting and blood (lots and lots of _blood_), and one day he just left me alone to fight Sylar all on my own but it's been years since I gave a damn about anything or anyone.

(well, maybe about the man I'm going to kill with my bare hands or a rifle, both are _awesome_)

"Don't you ever get tired of doing nothing but sending me to my grave (only to have me back alive and kicking), Claire? You could be doing so much more, by my side, _together_."

"Give me a few more years of blood and we'll see, _Sylar_."

I kept to my word on two things, not becoming the evil version of me both Peter and dad feared I would become (another _Elle Bishop_ to fall in Sylars web) and to consider the offer that Sylar had put on the table those many years ago, to be his '_first, first lady_' rather then his number one foe.

(but this only took place after I had put flowers on all of my families graves, that lined up one after the other)

"So, dear, have you made up that _pretty_ little mind of yours?"

His eyes watched me (like they do each time, finding the women in the face of the girl) waiting for the venomous _no_ to come from my lips and bracing himself for yet another death, almost as bad as the last one (filled with bombs and pieces of him) but this time I didn't do any of that.

"I have, Sylar (president, commander in chief, Gabriel Gray, villain, _murderer_) and my answer is _yes_. Killing you was some of the most fun I had in my life but it's time to move on, plus I don't have a place with them anymore."

(ever since I started wanting blood, Sylars and his alone, and not saving the world, that doesn't get me a place in the _heroes club_ anymore)

I believe this was the first time I surprised him (turned his mind upside down like he had done so many times with me, sometimes _literary_), besides years ago when I put one in the back of his head and hoped he was finally dead, and the shocked look on his face gave me nothing but _pleasure_.

(pleasure was something these days that only came when I was putting an end to one of his million lives, or when Peter was by my side being bad just for me)

"I'm very glad to hear that, Claire, _oh so_ glad. But I must warn you, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into, not a _clue_."

"Don't be so sure about that, _president_."

I knew very well what I was doing (living my life ands breaking a promise to a dead father), and who I was doing it with the _boogieman_ who no longer haunts my dreams but sleeps beside me in the marriage bed, I am after all the_ 'first, first lady_' a prefect match for my _unaging_ leader.

(a union that would last until the world crumbed into ruin, all thanks to _commander in chief_ and all who follow his every word, me included)


End file.
